


Let Me Show You

by SlimReaper



Series: The Chemicals-verse [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Gay Robots, Giant Robots, Giant Sexy Gay Robot Feels, I am not kidding about the fluff, I was in the mood for some happy fluffy smutty Dratchets okay, Idiots in Love, M/M, Overloads (Transformers), Ratchet's very good with his hands, Robot Feels, Robot Sex, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dratchet - Freeform, iopele
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5390114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimReaper/pseuds/SlimReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Ratchet's moved in, coming home is a lot different than it used to be.</p><p>But Drift could get used to evenings like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Show You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rayearthmagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayearthmagic/gifts).



> Because she loves these giant sexy idiots every bit as much as me, and anyone who can ship Dratchet as hard as I do deserves a fic just because!

Drift smiled to himself as he carefully placed his swords in their rack. It had been months now, but he still wasn’t fully used to coming home to his hab--to _their_ hab--and finding Ratchet already there.

No, it was no longer new, but it was still every bit as amazing to him to see how his life had changed. He had a home, a real one, a safe place where he was known and welcomed. He had a lover, one Drift wanted just as much as Ratchet wanted him. More than that, he had a courtmate, something he’d never imagined would happen to him.

Maybe soon he’d even have a conjunx.

But there was no rush. What he and Ratchet had right now was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he was more than willing to take things at the slow pace the medic preferred. This was good. It was beyond good. He’d never been this happy.

He bowed to his Great Sword with a brief but sparkfelt prayer of thanks to Primus. Ritual completed, he straightened and arched his tired backstruts, arms stretched luxuriously over his helm as he twisted this way and that to work out all the kinks that had settled into his frame during his long duty shift. He groaned and pressed harder into the stretch. _Primus_ , that felt good.

And then he gasped as warm hands slid down his chest plating to his abdominal stripes and sweet, hot lips pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the back of his neck. The gasp turned into a moan when Ratchet’s field surged and surrounded him, betraying exactly how revved up he was right now.

Five minutes ago he’d been calmly reading on the couch, and now... now Ratchet was very nearly _desperate_ for him.

Drift’s fans kicked on as he brought his arms down to reach back and stroke Ratchet’s helm. He was getting used to being safe enough with Ratchet that he could let his guard down, but even so, it never failed to amaze him how silently the heavily-built medic could move when he wanted to.

It never failed to amaze him that this mech he’d loved for so long could actually feel this way about him, too.

Ratchet hummed his approval as one hand slid over the curve of Drift’s hip and the other splayed across his abdominal plating, pulling him back against Ratchet’s frame. Drift couldn’t help the shudder that raced through him at the sensation of his lover’s heated plating against his back.

Oh yes, he was hot, he was so revved up that even his high-efficiency cooling system couldn’t keep up. “Not complaining, Ratch,” he said breathlessly as he tipped his head to the side to give the medic unimpeded access to his throat, access Ratchet immediately took full advantage of, “definitely not complaining-- _oh Primus_ \--but what brought this on?”

Ratchet chuckled against a particularly sensitive spot below his jaw and Drift moaned. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?” he murmured against his plating. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Before Drift could even begin to answer, Ratchet turned him in his arms and pulled him close. “Let me show you,” he whispered, and kissed him like he needed it to survive.

The swordsmech melted into his embrace. Lips parting to let his glossa in, knees going weak, Drift held onto his lover’s shoulders and let himself be swept away by it, trusting Ratchet to catch him if he fell.

And Ratchet never wavered. The kiss spun on and on, so good that Drift thought he could do this forever and die a happy mech, but Ratchet’s hands were busy, too. He caressed Drift like he was infinitely precious, unerringly finding every one of his sensitive places--below the dorsal plates on his upper back, along the top of the straps of his chest armor, just inside the flexion seams of his hips--places he’d carefully mapped out again and again, making slow, thorough love to Drift until he was begging for more. Drift whimpered into the kiss and pressed against him, wanting to feel Ratchet with every inch of his frame.

Those caresses built his charge until he was clinging to him, moaning, wanting, _needing_. “Ratchet,” he whispered between those endless, perfect kisses, “Ratchet, please.”

“Yes,” Ratchet murmured.

One hand slid up his back to trace teasing caresses over one hypersensitive audial flare while his other arm wrapped firmly around Drift’s waist, holding him tight while his fingertips slipped into that hip seam and found the sensor bundle hidden there. Drift keened, his frame very nearly overwhelmed with sensation, that glorious kiss, the delicate sweep across his audial flare sparking pleasure through his sensornet, the teasing, thrilling caress of skilled fingertips over that sensor bundle, sending ecstasy shivering straight to his array--

Drift’s legs completely failed him as overload hit him hard, leaving him gasping, shuddering, moaning in his lover’s embrace, an instrument played by a master.

When it passed, Drift stared at Ratchet in shock and found him staring right back, optics hot and awed. “That’s how you make me feel,” Ratchet whispered, supporting him effortlessly. “How did I get so lucky?”

Drift rested his helm against Ratchet’s broad, strong shoulder. He had no words, but he let his field respond for him in a wave of amazement and gratitude. _He_ was the lucky one.

Ratchet kissed the side of his helm, soft and sweet, his lips moving along the edge of his helm around to his audial flare again. “Oh, love, I’m grateful, too,” he whispered, and bent to sweep him into his arms and carry him toward their berth. “And I’m going to spend the rest of the night showing you just how much.”

 


End file.
